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<title>Cold by Theodosia Tallmadge (SilverDragonoid)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27846346">Cold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDragonoid/pseuds/Theodosia%20Tallmadge'>Theodosia Tallmadge (SilverDragonoid)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hamcember 2020 Prompt Fills [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hamcember, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sad, Songfic, day 29, unreliable author, you've heard of unreliable narrator now get ready for</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:41:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27846346</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDragonoid/pseuds/Theodosia%20Tallmadge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>There's a pot of vegan cookies waiting at the end for those who get the references. And the one who gets the first reference gets a cake. And no, it's not Leslie Odom's "Cold". That'd be too obvious, wouldn't it?</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(Past) Aaron Burr/Theodosia Prevost Burr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hamcember 2020 Prompt Fills [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There's a pot of vegan cookies waiting at the end for those who get the references. And the one who gets the first reference gets a cake. And no, it's not Leslie Odom's "Cold". That'd be too obvious, wouldn't it?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The world is coated in white. Cold and unforgiving, one might think. People say that things just cannot grow beneath the winter snow, or so they tell. And yet they’re looking forward to the early bloomers breaking through the frozen, glittering blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron Burr blinks the snowflakes away which settle on his eyelashes as he walks down the streets of New York. Every step produces a crunch. The townspeople are busy with keeping the roads free for the horses so that the pedestrian zone is rather neglected with the snow falling thick and heavy for hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Aaron doesn’t mind the weather. He doesn’t mind the cold in general. While for his fellow soldiers seeing their own breath is an unpleasant throwback to the wartime, Aaron doesn’t feel any of that. Of course, it has been a rough time for him, too, but the cold didn’t quite get to him as to other men. Other things, though, did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he is able to find comfort in the dark season. The city appears different after sunset. And the crunching beneath his feet never fails to lighten his mood every time he leaves his law office. The air is clear but brittle, though… that is probably what he likes about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels understood by the cold. Recently, even more. With the winter overtaking the city, for once, it feels like Burr’s feelings are everywhere on display – in the deep, inky canopy, in the see-through and fragile ice, in the unpleasant numbness in your limbs when you stay outside for too long, or the creeping headache you only recognize when it’s too late. But also in the sterile air and the snowflakes blurring your sight when he numbs himself against all painful thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christmas Eve is near. This fact is evident when you’re in New York. Christmas carols can be heard through some windows. Merchants and bakers have learned to use the party mood to their advantage. You can point out which passerby earns enough to spoil his family with Christmas pastries days before the main event just by the potent cinnamon smell coming from their bags and baskets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aaron walks past a group of children playing in the snow in front of their house door. Their cheerful laughter sounds like bells ringing. Snow angels were made and already trampled. Now, they are throwing snowballs at each other. Soon, they’ll go inside to get scolded by their mother before getting warmed up with a hot drink in front of the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, Aaron would smile at the sight, especially since it reminds him of his Lil’ Theodosia. But not this year. Even as he wonders what Theodosia’s and his greatest creation is doing at the moment – probably drinking tea together with the servants or reading a book in silence. He blames the temperature that has stiffened his facial muscles. The truth is he wouldn’t have smiled if the sun was shining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the first Christmas without her. He's already lived through many other without-hers. But particular things hit harder than others. For example, the first time he came home from work without her greeting him, and realizing she will never do it again. Or Theodosia Jr.’s first and last eleventh birthday without her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, his beacon in the night is buried far – on the other side of the river – just like a distant star – his heart now missing a sliver – blue depths separating them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the 18th of May this year, his Theodosia left the world of the living and she left a hole in Aaron that he could never fill. He not only lost his lover; Theodosia was so much more than that. They were soulmates, partners in every aspect of life, always on eye level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blocks out the hurt of not being able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>simply hold her</span>
  </em>
  <span> through the pain like he has done in the past years – or at least he tries. December has never felt so wrong before, now that she's not where she belongs; inside his arms. And he will never be able to forget the stress of work life in her loving embrace, while she kisses all his tension away. No cozy evenings spent on the couch, wrapped in blankets. No singing carols and hymns together – her voice has always been his light at the end of a rough day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His emotions put aside, Burr is a realist. He knows that the seasons will continue to change, no matter what tragedies take place, and that warm summer days are to return, no matter how dark it might be inside of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life will always find a way, and so will he. And maybe, just maybe, they are lucky enough to start again – together. But for now, the only thing his heart perceives is the cold.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Pot of cookies patiently waiting*</p><p> Special thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarus_Flew/pseuds/Icarus_Flew">Icarus_Flew</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamHamNeedsToChill/pseuds/HamHamNeedsToChill">HamHamNeedsToChill</a> for beta'ing this. Lots of love&lt;3</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">Actual finish date: 1st of November</span><br/>(Yes, I had to highlight this)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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